Page 7 of The Fake Family Deal

“Thank you for your time,” Priscilla says with a tight smile. She gestures towards the door, and I take the hint. “Unfortunately, you won’t be hearing from us again.”

“I know,” I say, shrugging. “Thank you.”

She gives me a sympathetic shrug back, then turns on her heel and walks back to the elevator, pressing one perfectly manicured finger to the call button. I linger for just long enough to see her step inside and vanish.

I probably should feel ashamed to be walking out of here in disgrace. I am embarrassed about how badly it went, but I guess it just means I have to practice for the next one.

I can call this one the test run — and now I know that Lila will be okay without me, at least for a little while, I can breathe out while I do other stuff.

And, at least, now I know what not to do again. At least I’ve got the most embarrassing interview out of the way first. Things can only go up from here. I’m sure of it.

As I get back on the road, all I can think about is my baby. I will have to get a job eventually, but for right now, it’s still okay, just me and her. And as she gets older, she’ll understand why I had to leave her. She’ll have everything she could ever want or needin the world. I’ll be there for every joy and every heartbreak, and she will always, always be able to rely on me.

I swear it.

CHAPTER 5

ELLIS

Ithink if I really tried, I could spit my gum out into the trash from here. I’d have to get the angle right, and I would need some heavy momentum to get it over the table. But I think, with a big enough force, I could get it to stick on the far wall.

This is a sure sign that the meeting is going badly. My mind is wandering again.

Then again, it’s not like any of these people are doing anything to impress me. I’m trapped here in this stupid room with these stupid people, resigned to thinking stupid thoughts about gum. Next I’ll be throwing pencils at the ceiling to see if they stick.

It’s not even like they’re telling me anything I don’t already know. I’ve read and reread the report about the app at least a thousand times now, and all I’m hearing them say is that all the figures that I thought were bad are actually worse than that.

Because not only did we lose sales on Beautiful Baby, but Beautiful Fitness has started taking a hit too. Things are spiraling out of control.

If we have to write Beautiful Baby off, so be it. ButBeautiful Fitness is literally what my life is built on. My ship can’t be sinking like this. I can lose a couple of yachts from the battalion, and it might hurt, but my mothership isn’t going down.

I think I’m mixing my metaphors now. Do they call a group of boats a battalion? Or are they a fleet? Motherships are just for space, right? Or did that come from the sea too?

“Mr. Whitlock?” asks Peterson, interrupting my thoughts. He’s a young man with one of those first names that sounds like it should be a last name, and a confusingly impenetrable expression to match.

“What?” I snap, staring furiously at him. Maybe if I’m furious enough, everyone will leave me alone.

Don’t they realize how embarrassing all this is? Maybetheyshould try being notorious and then failing so badly you cause your entire — whatever a group of ships is called to not only sink, but to fall apart catastrophically on the way down.

Peterson smiles uncomfortably. “Um, we were wondering if you had any ideas, sir?”

“Well, what about?”

“Beautiful Baby, sir?”

I groan loudly, shaking my head so everyone can feel the weight of disapproval. “Isn’t that what we’ve spent the entire last half hour talking about? Haven’t you come up with a solution for that yet?”

He nods nervously, like they’ve drawn straws and he’s got the short one. “We have got some ideas,” he says. “But we would like your input. If you’ve got any, that is.”

I raise both eyebrows. Did he really think I wouldn’t see through that dig? “No,” I say slowly, frowning hard at everyone so they know exactly how unhappy I am. “I don’t have any… input.”

“Okay,” says Priscilla, reining control back in. I can always rely on her. She’s the one really steering this ship, at the end of the day. I’m the figurehead and, indeed, the wallet, but she’s the captain. “Well, then, it looks like the only idea we’ve really got that might work is the reality show.”

“I’m not doing a reality show,” I pout. I can’t believe they’re still thinking about that. Imagine it! Me! On TV, prancing about like one of those fools who wants to be famous.

I’m already far too well-known, thank you.

That’s when Wilma, my head of partnerships, speaks up. “Mr. Whitlock, you may have heard already, but one of the major streaming sites is planning to make a new show centered around business entrepreneurs such as yourself, and their families.”

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